THE FREEDOM OF THE SOUL

(Delivered in London, 5th
November 1896)

The Katha Upanishad, which we have been studying, was written
much later than that to which we now turn — the Chh‚ndogya. The
language is more modern, and the thought more organised. In the older
Upanishads the language is very archaic, like that of the hymn portion
of the Vedas, and one has to wade sometimes through quite a mass of
unnecessary things to get at the essential doctrines. The ritualistic
literature about which I told you which forms the second division of
the Vedas, has left a good deal of its mark upon this old Upanishad, so
that more than half of it is still ritualistic. There is, however, one
great gain in studying the very old Upanishads. You trace, as it were,
the historical growth of spiritual ideas. In the more recent
Upanishads, the spiritual ideas have been collected and brought into
one place; as in the Bhagavad Git‚, for instance, which we may,
perhaps, look upon as the last of the Upanishads, you do not find any
inkling of these ritualistic ideas. The Gita is like a bouquet composed
of the beautiful flowers of spiritual truths collected from the
Upanishads. But in the Gita you cannot study the rise of the spiritual
ideas, you cannot trace them to their source. To do that, as has been
pointed out by many, you must study the Vedas. The great idea of
holiness that has been attached to these books has preserved them, more
than any other book in the world, from mutilation. In them, thoughts at
their highest and at their lowest have all been preserved, the
essential and the non-essential, the most ennobling teachings and the
simplest matters of detail stand side by side; for nobody has dared to
touch them. Commentators came and tried
to smooth them down and to bring out wonderful new ideas from the old
things; they tried to find spiritual ideas in even the most ordinary
statements, but the texts remained, and as such, they are the most
wonderful historical study. We all know that in the scriptures of every
religion changes were made to suit the growing spirituality of later
times; one word was changed here and another put in there, and so on.
This, probably, has not been done with the Vedic literature, or if ever
done, it is almost imperceptible. So we have this great advantage, we
are able to study thoughts in their original significance, to note how
they developed, how from materialistic ideas finer and finer spiritual
ideas are evolved, until they attained their greatest height in the
Vedanta. Descriptions of some of the old manners and customs are also
there, but they do not appear much in the Upanishads. The language used
is peculiar, terse, mnemonic.

The writers of these books simply jotted down these lines as
helps to remember certain facts which they supposed were already well
known. In a narrative, perhaps, which they are telling, they take it
for granted that it is well known to everyone they are addressing. Thus
a great difficulty arises, we scarcely know the real meaning of any one
of these stories, because the traditions have nearly died out, and the
little that is left of them has been very much exaggerated. Many new
interpretations have been put upon them, so that when you find them in
the Pur‚nas they have already become lyrical poems. Just as in the
West, we find this prominent fact in the political development of
Western races that they cannot bear absolute rule, that they are always
trying to prevent any one man from ruling over them, and are gradually
advancing to higher and higher democratic ideas, higher and higher
ideas of physical liberty, so, in Indian metaphysics, exactly the same
phenomenon appears in the development
of spiritual life. The multiplicity of gods gave place to one God of
the universe, and in the Upanishads there is a rebellion even against
that one God. Not only was the idea of many governors of the universe
ruling their destinies unbearable, but it was also intolerable that
there should be one person ruling this universe. This is the first
thing that strikes us. The idea grows and grows, until it attains its
climax. In almost all of the Upanishads, we find the climax coming at
the last, and that is the dethroning of this God of the universe. The
personality of God vanishes, the impersonality comes. God is no more a
person, no more a human being, however magnified and exaggerated, who
rules this universe, but He has become an embodied principle in every
being, immanent in the whole universe. It would be illogical to go from
the Personal God to the Impersonal, and at the same time to leave man
as a person. So the personal man is broken down, and man as principle
is built up. The person is only a phenomenon, the principle is behind
it. Thus from both sides, simultaneously, we find the breaking down of
personalities and the approach towards principles, the Personal God
approaching the Impersonal, the personal man approaching the Impersonal
Man. Then come the succeeding stages of the gradual convergence of the
two advancing lines of the Impersonal God and the Impersonal Man. And
the Upanishads embody the stages through which these two lines at last
become one, and the last word of each Upanishad is, "Thou art That".
There is but One Eternally Blissful Principle, and that One is
manifesting Itself as all this variety.

Then came the philosophers. The work of the Upanishads seems
to have ended at that point; the next was taken up by the philosophers.
The framework was given them by the Upanishads, and they had to fill in
the details. So, many questions would naturally arise. Taking for
granted that there is but One Impersonal Principle which
is manifesting Itself in all these manifold forms, how is it that the
One becomes many? It is another way of putting the same old question
which in its crude form comes into the human heart as the inquiry into
the cause of evil and so forth. Why does evil exist in the world, and
what is its cause? But the same question has now become refined,
abstracted. No more is it asked from the platform of the senses why we
are unhappy, but from the platform of philosophy. How is it that this
One Principle becomes manifold? And the answer, as we have seen, the
best answer that India has produced is the theory of Maya which says
that It really has not become manifold, that It really has not lost any
of Its real nature. Manifoldness is only apparent. Man is only
apparently a person, but in reality he is the Impersonal Being. God is
a person only apparently, but really He is the Impersonal Being.

Even in this answer there have been succeeding stages, and
philosophers have varied in their opinions. All Indian philosophers did
not admit this theory of Maya. Possibly most of them did not. There are
dualists, with a crude sort of dualism, who would not allow the
question to be asked, but stifled it at its very birth. They said, "You
have no right to ask such a question, you have no right to ask for an
explanation; it is simply the will of God, and we have to submit to it
quietly. There is no liberty for the human soul. Everything is
predestined — what we shall do, have, enjoy, and suffer; and when
suffering comes, it is our duty to endure it patiently; if we do not,
we shall be punished all the more. How do we know that? Because the
Vedas say so." And thus they have their texts and their meanings and
they want to enforce them.

There are others who, though not admitting the Maya theory,
stand midway. They say that the whole of this creation forms, as it
were, the body of God. God is the Soul of all souls and of the whole of
nature. In the case of individual souls, contraction comes from evil
doing. When a man does anything
evil, his soul begins to contract and his power is diminished and goes
on decreasing, until he does good works, when it expands again. One
idea seems to be common in all the Indian systems, and I think, in
every system in the world, whether they know it or not, and that is
what I should call the divinity of man. There is no one system in the
world, no real religion, which does not hold the idea that the human
soul, whatever it be, or whatever its relation to God, is essentially
pure and perfect, whether expressed in the language of mythology,
allegory, or philosophy. Its real nature is blessedness and power, not
weakness and misery. Somehow or other this misery has come. The crude
systems may call it a personified evil, a devil, or an Ahriman, to
explain how this misery came. Other systems may try to make a God and a
devil in one, who makes some people miserable and others happy, without
any reason whatever. Others again, more thoughtful, bring in the theory
of Maya and so forth. But one fact stands out clearly, and it is with
this that we have to deal. After all, these philosophical ideas and
systems are but gymnastics of the mind, intellectual exercises. The one
great idea that to me seems to be clear, and comes out through masses
of superstition in every country and in every religion, is the one
luminous idea that man is divine, that divinity is our nature.

Whatever else comes is a mere superimposition, as the Vedanta
calls it. Something has been superimposed, but that divine nature never
dies. In the most degraded as well as in the most saintly it is ever
present. It has to be called out, and it will work itself out. We have
to ask. and it will manifest itself. The people of old knew that fire
lived in the flint and in dry wood, but friction was necessary to call
it out. So this fire of freedom and purity is the nature of every soul,
and not a quality, because qualities can be acquired and therefore can
be lost. The soul is one with Freedom, and the soul is one with
Existence, and the soul is one with Knowledge. The Sat-Chit-¬nanda —
Existence-Knowledge-Bliss Absolute — is the nature, the birthright of
the Soul, and all the manifestations that we see are Its expressions,
dimly or brightly manifesting Itself. Even death is but a manifestation
of that Real Existence. Birth and death, life and decay, degeneration
and regeneration — are all manifestations of that Oneness. So,
knowledge, however it manifests itself, either as ignorance or as
learning, is but the manifestation of that same Chit, the essence of
knowledge; the difference is only in degree, and not in kind. The
difference in knowledge between the lowest worm that crawls under our
feet and the highest genius that the world may produce is only one of
degree, and not of kind. The Vedantin thinker boldly says that the
enjoyments in this life, even the most degraded joys, are but
manifestations of that One Divine Bliss, the Essence of the Soul.

This idea seems to be the most prominent in Vedanta, and, as I
have said, it appears to me that every religion holds it. I have yet to
know the religion which does not. It is the one universal idea working
through all religions. Take the Bible for instance. You find there the
allegorical statement that the first man Adam was pure, and that his
purity was obliterated by his evil deeds afterwards. It is clear from
this allegory that they thought that the nature of the primitive man
was perfect. The impurities that we see, the weaknesses that we feel,
are but superimpositions on that nature, and the subsequent history of
the Christian religion shows that they also believe in the possibility,
nay, the certainty of regaining that old state. This is the whole
history of the Bible, Old and New Testaments together. So with the
Mohammedans: they also believed in Adam and the purity of Adam, and
through Mohammed the way was opened to regain that lost state. So with
the Buddhists: they believe in the state called Nirvana which is beyond
this relative world. It is
exactly the same as the Brahman of the Vedantins, and the whole system
of the Buddhists is founded upon the idea of regaining that lost state
of Nirvana. In every system we find this doctrine present, that you
cannot get anything which is not yours already. You are indebted to
nobody in this universe. You claim your own birthright, as it has been
most poetically expressed by a great Vedantin philosopher, in the title
of one of his books — "The attainment of our own empire". That empire
is ours; we have lost it and we have to regain it. The M‚y‚v‚din,
however, says that this losing of the empire was a hallucination; you
never lost it. This is the only difference.

Although all the systems agree so far that we had the empire,
and that we have lost it, they give us varied advice as to how to
regain it. One says that you must perform certain ceremonies, pay
certain sums of money to certain idols, eat certain sorts of food, live
in a peculiar fashion to regain that empire. Another says that if you
weep and prostrate yourselves and ask pardon of some Being beyond
nature, you will regain that empire. Again, another says if you love
such a Being with all your heart, you will regain that empire. All this
varied advice is in the Upanishads. As I go on, you will find it so.
But the last and the greatest counsel is that you need not weep at all.
You need not go through all these ceremonies, and need not take any
notice of how to regain your empire, because you never lost it. Why
should you go to seek for what you never lost? You are pure already,
you are free already. If you think you are free, free you are this
moment, and if you think you are bound, bound you will be. This is a
very bold statement, and as I told you at the beginning of this course,
I shall have to speak to you very boldly. It may frighten you now, but
when you think over it, and realise it in your own life, then you will
come to know that what I say is true. For,
supposing that freedom is not your nature, by no manner of means can
you become free. Supposing you were free and in some way you lost that
freedom, that shows that you were not free to begin with. Had you been
free, what could have made you lose it? The independent can never be
made dependent; if it is really dependent, its independence was a
hallucination.

Of the two sides, then, which will you take? If you say that
the soul was by its own nature pure and free, it naturally follows that
there was nothing in this universe which could make it bound or
limited. But if there was anything in nature which could bind the soul,
it naturally follows that it was not free, and your statement that it
was free is a delusion. So if it is possible for us to attain to
freedom, the conclusion is inevitable that the soul is by its nature
free. It cannot be otherwise. Freedom means independence of anything
outside, and that means that nothing outside itself could work upon it
as a cause. The soul is causeless, and from this follow all the great
ideas that we have. You cannot establish the immortality of the soul,
unless you grant that it is by its nature free, or in other words, that
it cannot be acted upon by anything outside. For death is an effect
produced by some outside cause. I drink poison and I die, thus showing
that my body can be acted upon by something outside that is called
poison. But if it be true that the soul is free, it naturally follows
that nothing can affect it, and it can never die. Freedom, immortality,
blessedness, all depend upon the soul being beyond the law of
causation, beyond this Maya. Of these two which will you take? Either
make the first a delusion, or make the second a delusion. Certainly I
will make the second a delusion. It is more consonant with all my
feelings and aspirations. I am perfectly aware that I am free by
nature, and I will not admit that this bondage is true and my freedom a
delusion.

This discussion goes on in all philosophies, in some
form or other. Even in the most modern philosophies you find the same
discussion arising. There are two parties. One says that there is no
soul, that the idea of soul is a delusion produced by the repeated
transit of particles or matter, bringing about the combination which
you call the body or brain; that the impression of freedom is the
result of the vibrations and motions and continuous transit of these
particles. There were Buddhistic sects who held the same view and
illustrated it by this example: If young take a torch and whirl it
round rapidly, there will be a circle of light. That circle does not
really exist, because the torch is changing place every moment. We are
but bundles of little particles, which in their rapid whirling produce
the delusion of a permanent soul. The other party states that in the
rapid succession of thought, matter occurs as a delusion, and does not
really exist. So we see one side claiming that spirit is a delusion and
the other, that matter is a delusion. Which side will you take? Of
course, we will take the spirit and deny matter. The arguments are
similar for both, only on the spirit side the argument is little
stronger. For nobody has ever seen what matter is. We can only feel
ourselves. I never knew a man who could feel matter outside of himself.
Nobody was ever able to jump outside of himself. Therefore the argument
is a little stronger on the side of the spirit. Secondly, the spirit
theory explains the universe, whiles materialism does not. Hence the
materialistic explanation is illogical. If you boil down all the
philosophies and analyse them, you will find that they are reduced to
one; or the other of these two positions. So here, too, in a more
intricate form, in a more philosophical form, we find the same question
about natural purity and freedom. Ones side says that the first is a
delusion, and the other, that the second is a delusion. And, of course,
we side with the second, in believing that our bondage is a delusion.

The solution of the Vedanta is that we are not
bound, we are free already. Not only so, but to say or to think that we
are bound is dangerous — it is a mistake, it is self-hypnotism. As soon
as you say, "I am bound," "I am weak," "I am helpless," woe unto you;
you rivet one more chain upon yourself. Do not say it, do not think it.
I have heard of a man who lived in a forest and used to repeat day and
night, "Shivoham" — I am the Blessed One — and one day a tiger fell
upon him and dragged him away to kill him; people on the other side of
the river saw it, and heard the voice so long as voice remained in him,
saying, "Shivoham" — even in the very jaws of the tiger. There have
been many such men. There have been cases of men who, while being cut
to pieces, have blessed their enemies. "I am He, I am He; and so art
thou. I am pure and perfect and so are all my enemies. You are He, and
so am I." That is - the position of strength. Nevertheless, there are
great and wonderful things in the religions of the dualists; wonderful
is the idea of the Personal God apart from nature, whom we worship and
love. Sometimes this idea is very soothing. But, says the Vedanta, the
soothing is something like the effect that comes from an opiate, not
natural. It brings weakness in the long run, and what this world wants
today, more than it ever did before, is strength. It is weakness, says
the Vedanta, which is the cause of all misery in this world. Weakness
is the one cause of suffering. We become miserable because we are weak.
We lie, steal, kill, and commit other crimes, because we are weak. We
suffer because we are weak. We die because we are weak. Where there is
nothing to weaken us, there is no death nor sorrow. We are miserable
through delusion. Give up the delusion, and the whole thing vanishes.
It is plain and simple indeed. Through all these philosophical
discussions and tremendous mental gymnastics we come to this one
religious idea, the simplest in the whole world.

The monistic Vedanta is the simplest form in which you can put
truth. To teach dualism was a tremendous mistake made in India and
elsewhere, because people did not look at the ultimate principles, but
only thought of the process which is very intricate indeed. To many,
these tremendous philosophical and logical propositions were alarming.
They thought these things could not be made universal, could not be
followed in everyday practical life, and that under the guise of such a
philosophy much laxity of living would arise.

But I do not believe at all that monistic ideas preached to
the world would produce immorality and weakness. On the contrary, I
have reason to believe that it is the only remedy there is. If this be
the truth, why let people drink ditch water when the stream of life is
flowing by? If this be the truth, that they are all pure, why not at
this moment teach it to the whole world? Why not teach it with the
voice of thunder to every man that is born, to saints and sinners, men,
women, and children, to the man on the throne and to the man sweeping
the streets?

It appears now a very big and a very great undertaking; to
many it appears very startling, but that is because of superstition,
nothing else. By eating all sorts of bad and indigestible food, or by
starving ourselves, we are incompetent to eat a good meal. We have
listened to words of weakness from our childhood. You hear people say
that they do not believe in ghosts, but at the same time, there are
very few who do not get a little creepy sensation in the dark. It is
simply superstition. So with all religious superstitions There are
people in this country who, if I told them there was no such being as
the devil, will think all religion is gone. Many people have said to
me, how can there be religion without a devil? How can there be
religion without someone to direct us? How can we live without being
ruled by somebody? We like to be so treated, because we have become
used to it. We are not happy
until we feel we have been reprimanded by somebody every day. The same
superstition! But however terrible it may seem now, the time will come
when we shall look back, each one of us, and smile at every one of
those superstitions which covered the pure and eternal soul, and repeat
with gladness, with truth, and with strength, I am free, and was free,
and always will be free. This monistic idea will come out of Vedanta,
and it is the one idea that deserves to live. The scriptures may perish
tomorrow. Whether this idea first flashed into the brains of Hebrews or
of people living in the Arctic regions, nobody cares. For this is the
truth and truth is eternal; and truth itself teaches that it is not the
special property of any individual or nation. Men, animals, and gods
are all common recipients of this one truth. Let them all receive it.
Why make life miserable? Why let people fall into all sorts of
superstitions? I will give ten thousand lives, if twenty of them will
give up their superstition. Not only in this country, but in the land
of its very birth, if you tell people this truth, they are frightened.
They say, "This idea is for Sanny‚sins who give up the world and live
in forests; for them it is all right. But for us poor householders, we
must all have some sort of fear, we must have ceremonies," and so on.

Dualistic ideas have ruled the world long enough, and this is
the result. Why not make a new experiment? It may take ages for all
minds to receive monism, but why not begin now? If we have told it to
twenty persons in our lives, we have done a great work.

There is one idea which often militates against it. It is
this. It is all very well to say, "I am the Pure, the Blessed," but I
cannot show it always in my life. That is true; the ideal is always
very hard. Every child that is born sees the sky overhead very far
away, but is that any reason why we should not look towards the sky?
Would it mend matters to go towards superstition? If we cannot get
nectar, would it mend matters for us to drink poison? Would it be any
help for us, because we cannot realise the truth immediately, to go
into darkness and yield to weakness and superstition?

I have no objection to dualism in many of its forms. I like
most of them, but I have objections to every form of teaching which
inculcates weakness. This is the one question I put to every man,
woman, or child, when they are in physical, mental, or spiritual
training. Are you strong? Do you feel strength? — for I know it is
truth alone that gives strength. I know that truth alone gives life,
and nothing but going towards reality will make us strong, and none
will reach truth until he is strong. Every system, therefore, which
weakens the mind, makes one superstitious, makes one mope, makes one
desire all sorts of wild impossibilities, mysteries, and superstitions,
I do not like, because its effect is dangerous. Such systems never
bring any good; such things create morbidity in the mind, make it weak,
so weak that in course of time it will be almost impossible to receive
truth or live up to it. Strength, therefore, is the one thing needful.
Strength is the medicine for the world's disease. Strength is the
medicine which the poor must have when tyrannised over by the rich.
Strength is the medicine that the ignorant must have when oppressed by
the learned; and it is the medicine that sinners must have when
tyrannised over by other sinners; and nothing gives such strength as
this idea of monism. Nothing makes us so moral as this idea of monism.
Nothing makes us work so well at our best and highest as when all the
responsibility is thrown upon ourselves. I challenge everyone of you.
How will you behave if I put a little baby in your hands? Your whole
life will be changed for the moment; whatever you may be, you must
become selfless for the time being. You will give up all your criminal
ideas as soon as responsibility is thrown upon you — your whole
character will change. So if the
whole responsibility is thrown upon our own shoulders, we shall be at
our highest and best; when we have nobody to grope towards, no devil to
lay our blame upon, no Personal God to carry our burdens, when we are
alone responsible, then we shall rise to our highest and best. I am
responsible for my fate, I am the bringer of good unto myself, I am the
bringer of evil. I am the Pure and Blessed One. We must reject all
thoughts that assert the contrary. "I have neither death nor fear, I
have neither caste nor creed, I have neither father nor mother nor
brother, neither friend nor foe, for I am Existence, Knowledge, and
Bliss Absolute; I am the Blissful One, I am the Blissful One. I am not
bound either by virtue or vice, by happiness or misery. Pilgrimages and
books and ceremonials can never bind me. I have neither hunger nor
thirst; the body is not mine, nor am I subject to the superstitions and
decay that come to the body, I am Existence, Knowledge, and Bliss
Absolute; I am the Blissful One, I am the Blissful One."

This, says the Vedanta, is the only prayer that we should
have. This is the only way to reach the goal, to tell ourselves, and to
tell everybody else, that we are divine. And as we go on repeating
this, strength comes. He who falters at first will get stronger and
stronger, and the voice will increase in volume until the truth takes
possession of our hearts, and courses through our veins, and permeates
our bodies. Delusion will vanish as the light becomes more and more
effulgent, load after load of ignorance will vanish, and then will come
a time when all else has disappeared and the Sun alone shines.